Distractions
by emeraldsandopals
Summary: An unexpected move by one side changes the dynamics of the game – and some of the players may never be quite the same again…
1. Chapter 1

"Here they come!" Chris breathed excitedly, pointing through the trees. Martin nodded, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the small, black-and-white monkeys climbing nimbly from branch to branch as they made their way toward the inland stream where he and his brother had been waiting for them. White-faced capuchins spent much of every day on the move, but their travels always brought them back to a water source sooner or later, especially with the dry season approaching. Now, their thirst satisfied, they began to fan out along the forest floor and among the lower branches of the surrounding trees, foraging for a midday meal.

Unlike many of the animals at the heart of the Kratts' creature adventures, these clever, inquisitive monkeys were not considered an endangered species – and it was that fact which had brought the brothers here to the rainforest in search of them. Though their habitat was threatened in many areas, the capuchins had been able to adapt to the changing conditions around them, and Chris and Martin hoped that observing and studying them might give them some ideas about how to help declining populations among other primate species.

"Hey, Chris," whispered Martin as they began to move cautiously toward the troop, "D'you get the feeling that we're being watched?"

Startled, the younger Kratt glanced around, but it wasn't until he looked up that he spotted their observer: a large male capuchin regarding them intently from one of the higher branches. Noticing the brothers' eyes on him, he bristled, stiffening his legs and lunging forward slightly as he bared his teeth at the intruders.

"That must be the alpha male!" Chris exclaimed, though he too kept his voice low. "He's checking us out to see if we're a danger to the troop."

The brothers held their breath, keeping their movements slow and deliberate and watching the capuchin leader carefully for any signs of aggression or alarm. Finally, he relaxed his intimidating stance and, having apparently decided that they were not a threat, turned his attention to the ripe mangos growing nearby.

"Yes!" Martin turned to Chris for a high-five. "We passed! And if Frank likes us–"

"Frank?" Chris interrupted. "You named him Frank?"

"Sure, why not?" Martin grinned. "The Capuchin monks that these guys were named after – you know, the ones with the long, brown robes – are a Franciscan order, right? But Francis seems kinda formal for a monkey, so..." He gave an eloquent shrug.

Chris raised a quizzical eyebrow, but he couldn't help smiling. "All right, Frank it is."

"Okay, so if Frank likes us," the older Kratt resumed, "then it'll be a lot easier to integrate ourselves into the troop. Everyone listens to the alpha – you don't want to be on his bad side."

"Highly complex social structure," muttered Chris, now taking notes on his Creature Pod. "Alpha male protects troop from predators. Okay, what else have we got?"

"Well, it looks like every monkey for himself when it comes to food," chuckled Martin, watching two young capuchins squabbling over an oblong fruit roughly the size and color of a potato. "But this place is like a giant buffet – there's something for everyone!"

"No kidding," marveled Chris, gazing around at the scope and variety of the capuchins' lunchtime activities. Though many of them were eating fruit, some seemed to prefer leaves, and still others had stripped away the bark from a nearby tree to get to the tasty insects underneath. One had even found a bird's nest and was eagerly slurping up the contents of the eggs inside, keeping a wary eye out for any troopmates who might want to share his treat. "These guys are omnivores in the truest sense of the word – they'll eat just about anything!" He snickered, glancing over at his sibling with a mischievous grin. "Kinda like you, bro."

Martin laughed. "You don't even know what you're missing." Picking up one of the strange brown fruits, he peeled back a strip of the leathery skin and gave the flesh beneath an experimental nibble. "Hmm, not bad. Although–" He grimaced as another of the capuchins pulled a fist-sized mollusk from the muddy bank and began to pound it against the trunk of a nearby tree. "I think I'm gonna have to pass on the clams."

"Yeeeah," Chris agreed, now looking the tiniest bit green. As incredible as the Creature Power Suits were, they hadn't been able to fully compensate for the number of clams he and Martin had once had to eat while trying to liberate a group of walruses from Zach's pearl-harvesting operation, and the memory still made both brothers a little queasy.

"You're right, though." Taking a final bite of the fruit, Martin tossed the pit toward the stream, where it skipped twice across the surface before sinking to the bottom. "About the diet, I mean. Capuchins eat a huge variety of foods, and that makes it a lot easier for them to adapt to changes in their habitat. And using tools gives them even more options – things they wouldn't normally be able to eat." He glanced back toward the clam-digging monkey, who had succeeded in smashing the shell and was now happily consuming the meat inside. "Who needs a strong beak or powerful jaws when you've got opposable thumbs and a handy tree trunk?"

"Or rock," Chris added, watching another monkey lift a good-sized stone above her head and bring it down with great force onto a palm nut that she'd placed atop another, flatter stone.

"Exactly. So if one food source becomes scarce, they can just find anoth– whoa!"

Startled by his brother's shout, Chris looked up from his Creature Pod ("Varied diet; uses tools to obtain food") to see a capuchin in midair, seemingly free-falling from the tree where she'd been perched a moment earlier. Both brothers raced in her direction, cringing as she hurtled toward another tree several meters below her, but to their great astonishment and relief, instead of crash-landing, the monkey simply reached out with her capable hands and caught hold of one of the outer branches, letting the springy, flexible limbs absorb the force of her descent. The next moment, she was atop the branch, ambling calmly along it toward the trunk as though this were a perfectly ordinary way of getting around. The brothers watched in stunned fascination as a second and then a third monkey followed suit, each one launching herself into the void and then swinging lightly up onto the target branch with all the grace of a circus trapeze artist.

"Ohhh, we have _got_ to try that!" Martin tapped his Creature Pod. "Hey, Aviva, d'you think you can make us a couple of capuchin power discs?"

"Of course I can!" But the inventor's confident smile quickly turned apologetic. "But...it's going to be a while. I'm doing that software upgrade this morning, remember? The system's going to be offline until the installation is finished, and then I'll need to run some diagnostics to make sure everything's working properly."

"Oh, yeah." Martin's face fell. Chris put an arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry, bro. We can still do plenty of monkeying around without the suits."

The older Kratt brightened. "That's true. Look at this!" He indicated a pair of young capuchins at the edge of the troop, one of them tilting his head toward the other while his open mouth widened into something very like a smile. "One of the ways capuchins communicate is by facial expressions, and this one's telling his friend that he wants to play!" He moved in closer to get a better view. "Let's see what their game is – maybe they'll let us play, too!"

Spotting a fallen log a short distance from the pair, the two creature adventurers sat down to watch as the first monkey picked up a small twig and bit down on it, clamping it firmly between his teeth while his partner tried to pry it out. He seemed unfazed by the strong, dexterous fingers grabbing at his face and even poking into his nostrils, but the brothers, observing the interaction, exchanged a sidelong glance and then burst out laughing. "On second thought," Martin called to the youngsters, "I think we'll just watch. Thanks anyway!"

Still chuckling, he turned his attention to the rest of the troop, most of whom were now lounging comfortably in the treetops, waiting out the hottest part of the day. One of their number, however, was noticeably absent. "Hey, where's Frank?"

The younger brother scanned the surrounding trees. "I don't see him, either. I bet he's off on a scouting mission. These guys will be on the move again soon, and he needs to make sure that there aren't any predators around – and that they aren't wandering into another troop's territory. Did you know that one of the biggest dangers for capuchin monkeys is actually other capuchins? They may look little and cute, but they can be pretty fierce."

"Kinda like you, bro?" Martin's face was just a little too innocent.

Chris snorted, throwing a palm nut at him, but he was laughing in spite of himself. Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he got to his feet – digging a playful elbow into his brother's ribs on the way up – and stretched a little as he pulled out his Creature Pod.

He'd intended to continue with his observations, but instead he found himself simply watching the monkeys, captivated by the tranquility of the scene around him. Beneath the lush canopy, the capuchins curled together in snug little groups of two or three, or stretched out along the branches, their arms and legs dangling in an attitude of complete and utter relaxation. Chris fought back a yawn, weighing the temptation to climb up and join them against the pull of the ongoing creature investigation. Behind him, Martin was leaning back on his hands with his eyes half-closed, his face tilted upwards to the warm sunshine. He looked so contented that Chris didn't have the heart to disturb him, not just yet, even though he knew that his brother was no less eager than he was to discover more about the fascinating capuchins. And so it was that another dreamy quarter-hour had slipped away before the younger Kratt spoke again. "Well, it doesn't look like there's much going on around here. D'you want to try following Frank for a while? See what he's up to?"

The blue eyes flew open, sparkling with enthusiasm as Martin scrambled to his feet. "Race you to the Createrra!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Keep driving, Dabio," Donita ordered, her gaze sweeping over the lush, tangled greenery that surrounded them on all sides. "Somewhere in this rainforest is a creature that will take the fashion world by storm. And I intend to find it."

But both creatures and inspiration proved elusive that morning, and as the sun rose higher in the sky, Donita felt her frustration mounting.

"This – isn't – _working!_ " she ground out through clenched teeth as what had been a promising rustle in the underbrush revealed itself to be nothing more than a common, ordinary squirrel. She took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose in an effort to remain calm. The ideas would come. They always did, each one so unique, so breathtakingly original that she was occasionally astonished at her own creativity – though never for very long. What she needed was a break, she thought, a chance to relax and let her artistic genius take its course. A massage would have been ideal, but she supposed she'd have to wait until they got back to civilization for that. Still, there had to be _something_...

"Dabio!" she barked, turning abruptly to her assistant, who gave a start, nearly dropping the candy bar that he'd just unwrapped. "Isn't there supposed to be a beach around here somewhere?"

Dabio looked around blankly, as though expecting a stretch of shoreline to suddenly materialize in front of them. Donita sighed, holding out a hand. "Map, Dabio."

The beach proved easy enough to locate on paper – indeed, it would have been hard to miss it. The only problem was that she had no idea where they were in relation to it. Raising her eyes from the map, Donita scanned her surroundings once more in the hopes of finding some kind of landmark, but to no avail.

"Ugh!" Donita felt the edges of the map begin to crumple as her fingers tightened in renewed irritation. "Isn't there anything besides trees in this forest?"

"Uh… let me check, Donita." Dabio pulled out a pair of binoculars and began surveying the landscape. "Tree… Tree… Tree with a monkey in it… Tree..."

"Monkey?" Donita snatched the binoculars and trained them on the tree in question. Sure enough, she could just make out a small, furry figure perched among the spreading branches. The designer raised a carefully sculpted eyebrow. "Black, with a splash of cream... very nice!" Twirling the central knob, she gave a gasp of delight as the image came into clearer focus. "Look at that precious little face! I must have it! Dabio!"

"Yes, Donita?"

"Fetch me that monkey!"

"Yes, Donita!" Dabio paused, his face lighting up. "Can I use the scooter?"

Donita rolled her eyes. "Fine." She wasn't sure why Dabio had been so set on bringing the motorized two-wheeler, which he ordinarily used for tooling around her spacious mansion, but she hadn't seen any harm in it, so she'd let him have his way. Now, as she watched him cheerfully setting off in pursuit of the monkey, she couldn't help noticing – with the flicker of surprise that always accompanied the discovery of any degree of merit in one of her assistant's ideas – that the vehicle was actually quite well-suited to the task, its small size making it much more maneuverable than the convertible, its electric motor whisper-quiet. She wondered briefly whether she ought to give him a bit more credit, but quickly dismissed the notion. After all, it was just as likely that he'd wanted to ride the scooter because he thought it was fun.

He certainly did seem to be making the most of it, looping through the trees in a seemingly endless series of circles, pand it was only the knowledge that doing so would frighten away their quarry that kept Donita from screaming at him to quit fooling around and get to work. He kept it up for so long that even the inquisitive monkey appeared to lose interest in his antics; climbing down from the branch, it ambled over to the pile of nuts that had accumulated at the base of a neighboring tree and began pounding on one of them with a rock. Dabio continued to ride around with the same pleased grin on his face, but when his course took him up behind the small creature, he reached for his net and scooped it up, rock and all.

"I got him, Donita!" Dabio was beaming now, holding up the net for his employer to see as he sped back towards the convertible with his prize.

"Well, it's about time." The designer yawned, tossing aside her magazine. "Put it in the back, and let's get out of here."

Surveying her subject with a critical eye as she watched Dabio wrangle him into the cage that they'd brought along for the purpose, Donita felt her spirits begin to rise. "I can work with this," she murmured to herself. "I can _definitely_ work with this." Settling herself back in her seat, she flipped open her sketchpad while Dabio turned the convertible homeward.

A harsh clanging sound from behind made her jump, her pen skittering across the page and leaving a jagged black line in its wake. Scribbling out the rest of her drawing in disgust, she whirled around to glare at the offending primate, who, she now saw, was still clutching the rock in his furry little fist. "Dabio! What is that monkey doing?"

Glancing back at their captive through the rear-view mirror, her assistant broke into a broad smile as the monkey began to bang the rock against the door of the cage, the discordant jangle reverberating through the trees once more. "He's playing a pretty song, Donita."

"Well, make it stop!" the designer retorted. "How am I supposed to create a living masterpiece with all that racket going on?"

"Okay, Donita." Bringing the convertible to a halt, Dabio reached back and wrested the rock from the monkey's hand. "It stopped."

"That's better," Donita huffed, turning back to her sketchpad. But no sooner had they gotten on their way again, it seemed, than her concentration was broken once more, this time by someone shouting her name.

" _Now_ what?" Donita heaved an exaggerated sigh, though secretly she was rather pleased. "Ah, the life of a celebrity. Never a moment to oneself." Summoning up a gracious smile, she turned around to see who it was that had hailed her. But the smile faded perceptibly as she caught sight of the mud-splashed jeep speeding toward her, and the two men seated inside it. No wonder the voice had sounded familiar.

"Martino and Chrisangelo. I might have known." The fashionista gave another sigh, this one sounding slightly more genuine. "Now I suppose they're going to want me to give up my latest fashion find. Well, it's a good thing this car is designed for speed as well as style." She turned to her assistant. "Dabio! Step on it!"

"Uh..."

" _MOVE!_ "

Donita was thrown back against the seat as the convertible lurched forward, but as soon as she'd recovered her balance, she turned and glanced behind her once more, noting with satisfaction the increasing distance between her vehicle and the Kratts'. Before she'd had a chance to savor her apparent victory, however, they had plunged into the heart of the rainforest, and she let out a muffled shriek as trees and vines suddenly seemed to close in on them from all sides, fearing not only for the success of her project – the density of the foliage having temporarily obscured her view of the brothers – but for her own safety and that of her paint job as well.

The next few miles seemed to pass in a blur as the red convertible careened through the forest. Though she'd immediately flung up her arms to protect her head and face, Donita could still see well enough to provide Dabio with a continual stream of instructions, alternately urging him to hurry lest the brothers somehow catch up and to slow down in order to avoid hitting any of the too-numerous trees, not to mention contributing a helpful gasp or scream whenever a collision seemed imminent. When at last they reached the jet, she sat back with a long exhale, feeling rather drained by her exertions, but the discovery that they had made it both unscathed and comfortably ahead of their pursuers revived her almost instantaneously.

"We did it, Dabio," she gloated, bestowing a magnanimous smile on her assistant as he climbed out to retrieve their captive. "Now let's get to work."

Hastening up the ramp with the monkey's cage in his muscular arms, Dabio flung open the door for his employer, then stepped back to allow her to enter. Donita nodded absently as she swept past him, her attention riveted once again on her drawings. Back in the familiar luxury of her jet, with its carefully-designed interior, she could feel herself start to relax, the fountain of creativity beginning to flow once more. Opening her sketchpad to a fresh page, she sank down quickly onto a nearby chaise to capture the ideas now forming in her mind.

Deep in thought, she barely noticed the twin metallic thunks of the cage being set on the floor and the door swinging closed behind it, but an unusual rattle a moment later had her glancing up with a frown. "What on earth–?"

She broke off with a gasp as a blur of black and white shot past her. "My monkey! Get it, Dabio!" Leaping to her feet, she cast a frenzied glance around the jet before spotting the small primate scampering up the side of a folding screen standing in the corner. Dabio made a lunge for it, but missed, plowing into the screen and sending it toppling over onto himself as his quarry scrambled up the rose-hued draperies hanging nearby. It paused a moment at the top, then suddenly took a flying leap across the room, landing atop the chaise that Donita had just vacated.

The designer let out a shriek as the creature sailed over her head, but she kept her wits about her. Dashing to the other end of the cabin, she snatched up her suspended-animation controller from the desk and aimed it at the chaise. A press of a button, and the monkey was frozen in place, looking like an extremely detailed plush toy nestled among the throw pillows.

Donita took a deep breath, savoring the renewed peace and quiet. Placing the controller back on the desk, she advanced toward her assistant, who was crawling awkwardly out from beneath the fallen screen. "Dabio," she began, in a tone of deceptive sweetness, "I thought we'd cleared up that little problem with MAKING SURE THE LOCK IS LOCKED?" She dug her fingernails into her palms, trying to keep her temper even as her voice rose in volume and pitch.

"I– I _did_ lock it, Donita," Dabio stammered, setting the screen upside-down in his confusion and haste. "The– the monkey must have broken it!"

" _The monkey must have broken it?_ " Donita scoffed. "Do you really expect me to believe–" She stopped abruptly as her eye fell on the lock, which bore the unmistakable marks of the capuchin's makeshift hammer. Her anger began to ebb away, replaced by something that felt oddly like a twinge of guilt... but Donita pushed the unwelcome sensation firmly aside. She couldn't very well admit to Dabio that she might have been wrong; he was her employee, after all, and his unquestioning loyalty and obedience were essential. Still...

"I suppose it _is_ possible," she conceded grudgingly before rounding on her henchman, who jumped, knocking over the screen again. "But don't let it happen again!"

With that formality out of the way, she turned her attention to the monkey himself. "You're lucky you're with me," she remarked as she scooped him up and carried him toward one of the life-size mannequins stationed at intervals around the jet. "After a stunt like that, Zach would have had you in a robot suit and doing his chores for him faster than I can say 'Vogue.'" She sniffed. "His ideas are always so… utilitarian. Whereas I, I see the grander possibilities. In _my_ expert hands, you will soon be at the pinnacle of the fashion world, mingling with those who appreciate the finer things in life." Giving a satisfied nod, she placed the monkey atop the mannequin's head and began to arrange his limbs in what she considered the most becoming manner. Suddenly, her hands stilled, her eyes widening as she recognized an asset that she had somehow previously overlooked.

"Look at that tail," she breathed. "Look at that long, luxurious, _beautiful_ tail!" Her gaze became distant, rapturous. "A hat and scarf all in one! It will be _perfect_ for my new line of winterwear! I'll call it… my Cappuccino Collection!"

Wrapping the tail around the mannequin's neck with a flourish, she stepped back and stared blissfully at her creation for a moment, then abruptly clapped her hands, becoming brisk and businesslike once again. "But we'll need more - lots more. My clients will demand them in small, medium, and large." She frowned, considering. "Dabio! Are those Kratt brothers still out there?"

Her assistant crossed to the window and peered out. "Yes, Donita."

"Good. Maybe this will be easier than I thought." She turned to Dabio, who was now making faces against the glass. "Get the convertible ready again, but don't let them see you. Then keep watch and inform me the minute they leave. Understand?"

* * *

"No!" Chris pounded his hand against the steering wheel in frustration as the door of the pink jet slammed shut. "We were so close! Now she's gonna turn Frank into a... into a..." But here his limited fashion vocabulary failed him. "Well, I don't know what, but it won't be anything good." He frowned. "But how are we going to get him out of there without getting stuck in Donita's pose beams again?"

"We'll be able to do it once we get the capuchin powers," Martin assured him, but he, too, looked worried. "But I don't know if we can wait that long. The troop is really vulnerable without their leader!" He cast an anxious glance over his shoulder, as if trying to catch a glimpse of the capuchins they'd left behind. "Maybe we should go back and make sure they're okay."

"But that's what she'll be expecting us to do," Chris objected. "Remember what happened with Blur and Spot-Swat? We could lead her right to them!"

Both brothers fell silent, pondering, then glanced up at the same moment, turning to each other with nearly identical smiles. "I'll take the Createrra and lead Donita and Dabio away from the troop–" Chris began.

"And I'll sneak onto the jet and rescue Frank," Martin finished.

Nodding his agreement, Chris pulled out his Creature Pod. "Koki, can you get a visual on the troop?"

"On it." The communications specialist pressed a few buttons and gave a nod of her own. "Everything looks quiet right now, but we'll keep an eye on things until you get back there with ol' Frankincense, or whatever his name is." A tiny smirk accompanied this last comment. " _Tortuga_ out."

Martin, meanwhile, had turned his attention once more to the forest behind them, although Chris could tell from the mingled relief and amusement in his expression that he'd heard everything Koki had said. "We'll have to start off going back the way we came if we want Donita to think we're heading back into capuchin territory," the older Kratt observed. "But that thick foliage will be the perfect cover. Once we get a little ways in, I can hop out and lie low until she goes by, and then double back to the jet."

"I'll keep going for a couple more miles and then veer north," Chris decided, scanning the map that he'd pulled up on his Creature Pod for areas where they'd be less likely to actually encounter any capuchins. Pocketing the device, he paused momentarily, casting a quick look up at his brother. "Hey, bro... be careful, okay? I'll try to buy you as much time as I can, but..."

"I will," Martin promised, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll let you know when I've got Frank, and we'll meet back at the _Tortuga_."

Chris nodded, a smile beginning to spread across his face as he saw his own determination and growing excitement mirrored in his brother's eyes. Raising his arm, he tapped his fist against Martin's in the gesture that had become almost a tradition for them, their voices ringing out in unison: "To the creature rescue!"

* * *

"Stop the car, Dabio. There, behind that tree." Donita frowned as she raised the binoculars to her eyes. The Kratts' vehicle had come to a stop some distance ahead, but she couldn't see any monkeys anywhere, just the younger of the brothers climbing out of the driver's seat. The designer's frown deepened. "Don't tell me we're going to have to get out and walk." To her relief, however, Chris merely circled around to the back of the jeep and knelt down to inspect the rear tire, which, Donita now saw, was unmistakably flat. She watched him extract a jack from the cargo area and begin to raise the vehicle off the ground, but she had little interest in the details of automotive maintenance, and she soon found her attention wandering. Stifling a yawn as he struggled with a particularly stubborn lug nut, she wondered idly why he didn't just get his brother to help him, before passing on to the more pressing question of whether she ought to apply an additional layer of sunscreen. A moment later, however, she shot bolt upright in her leather seat, fumbling for the binoculars once again. "Wait a minute. Where's–?"

Donita stopped, realizing that she knew exactly where Martin was, and what he was up to. The brothers had tricked her into leaving the jet – and the monkey – unattended, and she'd fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. Donita narrowed her eyes, torn between irritation and a grudging admiration. "So you want to play hide-and-seek, do you? Well, I have a few games of my own."

"Games?" Dabio gave a little bounce in his seat. "Oh, goody, I love games!"

"Yes, Dabio." A sly smile stole across the designer's face as an idea began to unfold in her mind. "You are going to stay here with Chrisangelo and play a game called 'Wait Until He Gets His Jeep Fixed and Then Follow Him to Wherever the Monkeys Are and Capture Them.' Okay?"

Her assistant nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, Donita! That sounds like fun!"

"Good." Stepping gracefully out of the car, Donita retrieved the scooter from the trailer and prepared to mount it. "Meanwhile, I will go back to the jet and find Martino." Her smile widened, a peculiar gleam coming into her eyes. "I have another little game in mind for him."


	3. Chapter 3

Martin stood beneath the jet, looking appraisingly at the hatchway above him. The aircraft had several openings, including two more traditional doors, but he'd decided on this one for the simple reason that, in the absence of whatever device Donita used to operate the entrance ramps, it was the only one accessible from ground level.

The question was how to get it open. For a brief moment, he second-guessed their hasty division of labor, the younger brother being the more mechanically inclined of the two, but then he shook his head. He was confident that he'd be able to make it on board without too much difficulty, and although he'd never admit it, he would much rather have Chris in the Createrra than alone on a villain's jet. He knew his brother could take care of himself, but still… Chris had been held captive on Zach's plane once before, and Martin was determined not to let anything like that happen again. "And besides," he said aloud, banishing the memory with a soft chuckle as he located the catch several inches above his head and reached up to begin trying to disengage it, "I'm taller."

The chisel on his Creature Pod proved too bulky for the task, but no matter; Martin, as usual, had plenty of other resources at his disposal. Rooting around in his pockets, he came up with a coil of wire, left over from a new invention that he'd been helping Aviva build a few days earlier. "She'll probably want that back at some point," he mused, then shrugged. "But she won't mind donating some of it for a good cause." Sitting down cross-legged on the ground beneath the jet, he unrolled a length of wire and got to work, folding and twisting it into the shape he needed. Then, crossing his fingers for luck, he got to his feet once more and threaded his makeshift key into the mechanism.

It took a bit of trial and error, but finally the catch gave way. Martin ducked as the heavy doors came swinging toward him, then jumped up and caught hold of the metal rim that surrounded the opening. A quick pull, a bit of a scramble, and he was inside, straightening up to find himself in a cavernous, dimly-lit room that seemed to be a combination cargo hold and storage area. The vacuum extractor that Donita used for large-scale creature harvesting stood in one corner, its long hose and suction tube coiled and waiting for whatever her next big project might be, and the shelves lining the nearest wall overflowed with bolts of fabric and boxes of ribbons and trims in every color imaginable. Beyond the circle of sunlight that spilled in through the hatchway, the outlines of a host of other objects blurred together in the semidarkness, but at the far end of the room another promising gleam caught his eye. Martin moved closer to investigate, threading his way between an oversized birdcage and Donita's lipstick-shaped submarine. It was an access door, just as he'd hoped, set into the wall atop a narrow metal staircase and evidently left ajar in the designer's eagerness to add to her inventory. Her studio – and Frank – had to be up there.

All at once, he froze in his tracks, stifling a yell. Somewhere to his left, just on the edge of his vision, the shadows had coalesced into a human form.

He spun around to face his opponent head-on, bracing for some kind of confrontation, but none came. The solitary figure remained motionless, and Martin, too, held his ground, muscles tensed, eyes darting around the room as he considered his options. No fighter, he was loath to approach the other party directly, but although he was tempted to make a dash for the stairs and try to grab Frank before whoever it was caught up with him, the idea of turning his back on an unknown adversary – and one who was almost certainly more familiar with the interior of this jet than he was – was not a particularly appealing one, either. Meanwhile, his counterpart appeared content to bide his time as the nerve-wracking silence stretched on, longer and longer…

Too long. Martin frowned, the suspicion that had been tugging at the back of his mind growing stronger. Easing his defensive posture just slightly, he took a cautious step forward, and then another. A few more steps, and he broke into a laugh that was equal parts sheepish and relieved.

He had not been squaring off with a villain at all, but with a large dressmaker's dummy, clad in a half-finished evening gown that, thankfully, seemed to be devoid of any living components. Martin released a slightly shaky breath, feeling his racing heart begin to slow as the rush of adrenaline ebbed away. "That'll make a good story to tell Chris," he decided with another laugh, but he found himself quickening his pace all the same as he made his way toward the door. The sooner he and Frank were safely out of this place, the better.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he pushed his way through the access door and the thick velvet draperies that hung over it, and on into the jet's main cabin, where he quickly spotted the familiar furry figure curled atop a large mannequin near the center of the room. "Don't worry, buddy," Martin assured him as the monkey's eyes – the only part of him that was still able to move – turned toward him with an almost pleading expression. "I'm gonna get you out of here. Just gotta find the controller..." He glanced around as he spoke, but couldn't see it anywhere nearby. "Hold on… it's got to be around here somewhere..." A moment of thought, then a snap of his fingers, and he was off, hurrying toward the desk at one end of the room. Sure enough, there was the controller, just visible next to a sleek, multi-featured sewing machine. Martin broke into a relieved smile as he reached over to pick up the device. Now all he had to do was zap Frank with it, and they would both be on their way home.

"Well, hello, Martino."

Martin whirled around. Donita was standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip, regarding him with a slightly amused expression.

"Donita!" Seeing that she was alone, Martin stiffened, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of suspicion and concern. "Where's Chris?"

The designer waved a dismissive hand. "He's busy fixing that little jeep of yours. Dabio's keeping an eye on him. But you and I have some…business to attend to." She took a few purposeful strides toward him. "Put down the controller."

Martin shook his head. "You have to let the monkey go, Donita. He's the leader of a whole troop – they're all depending on him!"

Donita ignored him, continuing to advance across the floor of the jet. "I'd advise you to put it down," she repeated, with a bit of a smirk. "You've already got more than you can handle."

"Wh– what do you mean?" Martin took a step backwards without quite knowing why. The slender fashionista wasn't much of a threat per se, but that knowing smile she was wearing made him nervous – a feeling that only intensified when he felt the wall of the jet at his back.

Donita only smiled more broadly. She was right in front of him now, and he caught a whiff of some exotic floral perfume as one well-manicured hand shot out, pinning his shoulder to the wall. Martin stared at her, a hundred different possibilities running through his head, but what followed was the very last thing he'd anticipated.

She kissed him.

Taken completely by surprise, he responded instinctively for a brief, dizzying moment… until his conscious mind caught up with what was going on and he pulled away, wide-eyed and speechless.

Donita gave a trill of laughter at the expression on his face. "Oh, come now, darling. There's no need to look so horrified. We're just having a bit of fun."

Martin swallowed hard, still struggling to formulate some kind of a response – between his utter bewilderment at what had just happened and the distracting sensation of Donita's fingers delicately twining themselves into the back of his hair, he was finding coherent thoughts rather hard to come by. But the answer seemed to come from somewhere deeper, pushing its way through the tumult in his mind. "No," he whispered hoarsely.

"No?" Donita echoed, with another rippling laugh. "Whyever not? No one has to know." She flashed him a wicked smile. "And don't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

Much to his annoyance, Martin felt himself flushing. "I– " he spluttered, "I'm a _guy_ , Donita. It's– it's biological."

"Precisely," Donita purred. Releasing his shoulder, she trailed her fingers down his arm, taking hold of his hand and guiding it to her waist. "We're just mammals, aren't we, Martino? What is it you Kratts always say? 'Living wild and free?'"

"'Living free and in the wild,'" Martin corrected automatically, if a little breathlessly. "And it's, uh… it's really… Chris's line…" He stopped, realizing that they had wandered from the point. But the familiar catchphrase had a steadying effect, bringing his swirling thoughts back into focus, and he felt himself on sure footing once more.

"B-but, yeah, that's what we believe. Both of us." Reaching up, he gently but firmly detached her hand from the back of his neck, pulling his other hand from beneath hers and letting it fall to his side. "It's my job to protect animals from people like you," he reminded her. "And I can't do that if I... if we..."

"Oh, Martino." Donita shook her head reproachfully, a mock pout playing across her features. "Is your work all that matters to you?"

Martin had largely been avoiding her gaze, which made him exponentially more uncomfortable, but now he found himself staring at her with a mixture of astonishment and dismay. Did she… did she think he was just sparring with her? His expression hardened slightly as he forced himself to meet her eyes, strengthened by the suddenly pressing need to somehow make her understand.

"No. But I could never respect or– " he stumbled a little over the words – "care for someone who treats animals the way you do. And I'd lose all my self-respect – and the respect of people I do care about – if I... got involved with you."

The silence that followed seemed interminable, and Martin held his breath, trying desperately to steel himself for whatever her response might be. Then –

"I see," Donita said quietly.

She turned away, but not before Martin caught a flicker of something in her golden eyes, something that made him take a step toward her as she stood over the desk, her hands spread flat against its surface and her head slightly bowed. "Donita– "

"Just go," she whispered, her back still to him. "Just go."

Martin was only too happy to accept that invitation, but he certainly wasn't about to leave without Frank. Realizing suddenly that he had no idea where the controller was, he looked around rather blankly before spotting it on the floor near where Donita had cornered him. He must have dropped it after all.

In another situation, that might have been funny.

He kept a wary eye on Donita as he picked up the device and circled back toward the mannequin, but she made no move to stop him, even when Frank's excited chittering clearly advertised his release. The monkey shied away at his approach, but when Martin stopped a short distance away, imitating as best he could the friendly trill he'd heard the capuchins using to greet each other back at the stream, Frank turned and stared intently at him for a long moment, then – though still trembling slightly – climbed into his outstretched arms and allowed himself to be carried toward the door. Gently stroking the thick, dark fur as he ducked back through the curtains and hurried down the stairs, Martin could feel the capuchin begin to quiet under his touch… and he found himself wishing that his own agitation could be so easily assuaged.

* * *

Chris smiled wryly to himself as he climbed back into the Createrra. A flat tire certainly wouldn't have been his first choice, but on the plus side, it was the perfect excuse to delay the alleged monkey-finding expedition – he didn't know how long he could have driven around aimlessly without arousing suspicion. Martin should be on board the jet by now, he calculated, maybe already on his way out with Frank in tow. He'd just follow this trail a little farther and wait for his brother's call.

Pulling the Createrra back onto the path, he ventured a cautious peek into the rear-view mirror. Yes, there was the red convertible, partially concealed behind a massive kapok tree. But–

Chris froze, his stomach plummeting like a rock as the realization of what he'd seen – or rather, what he hadn't seen – sank in. _I must not have looked carefully enough_ , he rationalized, a bit desperately. _I'll… I'll just check again…_

With as casual an air as he could muster, he shifted his position, craning his neck slightly under the guise of stretching out an imaginary crick– and now there was no denying the truth of the situation. Dabio was alone in the car. And Donita was nowhere in sight.

"Oh, no," he whispered. "Oh, no." Abandoning all pretense, he spun the Createrra around and started back toward the jet as fast as he could go.

* * *

Throwing the jeep into park outside the plane a few minutes later, Chris vaulted out of the driver's seat, fighting the overmastering urge to simply storm the jet. His heart was screaming at him to get in there and help his brother, but his head warned that Dabio, whom he'd managed to lose temporarily in the thick foliage, might return at any moment, and that he was definitely going to need some backup when that happened. As he reached for his Creature Pod, however, a flash of movement caught his attention, and he looked up to see a familiar pair of boots descending from the hatchway beneath the jet; the next moment, Martin was on the ground with Frank in his arms. Ducking hastily under the open doors, he threw a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder, then bolted, making a break for the safety of the surrounding trees.

"Martin!"

The older Kratt gave a violent start at the sound of his brother's voice, but then turned and began hurrying in his direction. "I'm so sorry, bro," Chris called, running to meet him. "I got a flat tire, and Donita must've gotten close enough to figure out what we were up to, because by the time I got it fixed, she was gone! I came back here as fast as I could, but–" He broke off, suddenly noticing the look on his brother's face. "Martin, are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

His brother stared rather vaguely at him, as though he hadn't heard a word Chris had said, but seemed to shake himself out of it as they reached the Createrra. "I'm fine," he responded tersely, swinging himself and Frank into the passenger seat while Chris climbed back in on the driver's side. "Let's get out of here. Go. Go."


	4. Chapter 4

Martin appeared to have regained his composure by the time they'd met up with the rest of the troop, and between getting Frank settled back in and testing out the new capuchin power discs, whatever had happened on Donita's jet seemed to have been forgotten. But Chris, with the perception born of years of experience, thought he detected a lingering unease in his brother's manner, the barest hint that something was not quite right. Now, listening to him tossing and turning long after he ordinarily would have been asleep, he was sure of it.

Chris snapped on the light. "All right, bro. Out with it."

"Out with what?" Martin squinted in the sudden brightness, stifling a not-entirely-convincing yawn.

"You've been acting weird ever since we left Donita's. What's going on?" The younger brother stiffened as a sudden fear struck him. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Martin shook his head. "I told you, I'm fine."

"I know you did." Chris fixed his brother with a stern look. "And I'm not buying it."

"It's nothing," Martin insisted, an uncharacteristic note of impatience creeping into his voice. "Can we just drop it, please?"

Chris hesitated, torn between a reluctance to press his brother on a subject that he clearly didn't want to talk about, and a desire to find out what it was so that he could help. Given how worried he was starting to feel, though, it wasn't much of a contest.

"Bro," he began, in a gentler tone, " _something_ obviously happened on that jet. Why won't you just tell me what it was?" Receiving no answer, he began casting about in his mind for more possibilities. "Did she…threaten you, or something?"

"No." Casting him a look of mingled irritation and resignation, Martin rolled over onto his stomach and mumbled something into his pillow.

Now Chris was completely baffled. "Sorry, didn't catch that?"

Martin sat up, huffing out an exasperated breath. "She kissed me, all right? She kissed me!"

"She _what?_ " Chris was startled into a sudden bark of laughter. "Is that all? Man, you really had me scared there for a minute!"

Martin gave a halfhearted shrug, his gaze skating off in the general direction of the floor. "Told you it was nothing," he muttered.

"Yeah, it's really not that surprising, is it?" Chris teased him. "I mean, she's had a thing for you ever since that business with the draco lizards."

Martin groaned. "Please don't remind me."

But Chris was on a roll, his amusement fueled by relief, and perhaps the tiniest subconscious desire to punish his brother a little for worrying him like that. "Hey, remember the time she called you on your Creature Pod? When we were studying the seahorses?" Chris laughed even harder at the memory. "You're usually pretty good under pressure, but _man_ , bro! Not that time. Heh, you were drowning even _with_ the diving mask!"

He'd expected Martin to join in the merriment – after all, the two of them had shared a good laugh about the incident later, once they were sure the seahorses were safe – but though his brother gave his jokes a perfunctory smile, he was clearly still troubled about something, and, seeing this, Chris's own mirth faded.

He gave his brother a curious look. "This is really bothering you, isn't it? Why?"

Martin sighed. "I don't know. Being blindsided like that – it was... pretty unnerving." He forced a short laugh. "So much for being prepared for anything, right? I had no idea what I was doing. And– and she was so... and I was trying to... and she seemed to think..." Another sigh, a shake of the head. "It was so weird, Chris. Like being in some really crazy dream. I'm still not even sure how it happened. But I–" He stopped, running a hand over his face. "Okay, this is gonna sound really stupid, but I almost feel... guilty about the whole thing."

"You shouldn't," Chris pointed out reasonably. "It's not like you've been, y'know, encouraging her, or anything."

"I know." A grimace. "But still. And I..." He hesitated.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "And you...what?"

"I, uh..." Martin trailed off again, looking very much as though he wished he hadn't said anything more. "I think I hurt her feelings," he said finally.

"You think you _hurt_ her _feelings_?" Chris repeated incredulously. "Martin, she's a _villain!_ She doesn't care about anybody else's feelings; why should you care about hers?"

He hadn't really been expecting an answer, nor did he receive one; Martin merely shrugged and glanced away.

Chris shook his head, a slightly bemused but affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite the closeness between them, there were things about the way his brother's mind worked that he would probably never understand. Rather than waste time debating the point, he decided to try a different tack. "Don't worry about it, bro," he soothed. "She's probably just trying to mess with your head."

His words seemed to echo in the silence that followed, and all at once he realized how they must have sounded. "I– I'm sorry, Martin," he stammered. "I didn't mean..."

"I know what you meant." Another pause, and then Martin sighed. "And you're probably right." Stretching out on his bed again, he reached for the light switch and gave it a flick, plunging the room into darkness once more. "Let's just go to sleep and forget this whole thing ever happened."

* * *

If neither of the brothers quite managed to fully comply with Martin's request in the weeks that followed, they at least did a creditable job of pretending. The incident was never mentioned between them, and although they had a number of run-ins with both Zach and Gourmand, Donita seemed to be keeping a very low profile as far as creature-napping was concerned. Chris's covert internet searches revealed that she was spending most of her time in Paris and Milan, at the center of the glittering fashion scene, and that was just fine by him – in his opinion, the farther she stayed from both wild creatures and his brother, the better. If she had indeed been trying to get into his head, Chris thought privately, she'd done a pretty impressive job of it – he didn't know when he'd seen his brother so rattled. Martin had seemed like his usual self the next day, but Chris suspected that what had happened on the jet was still troubling him at some level, and he couldn't deny that he was troubled by it himself. He trusted his brother implicitly, of course, but Donita was another matter entirely – especially now that she appeared to have added a new type of weapon to her arsenal – and although Chris tried to maintain his usual calm, objective outlook, from time to time he still caught himself wondering uneasily what might happen the next time they met.

As for Martin himself, his naturally cheerful, easygoing disposition served him well as he tried to put the incident behind him, but memories of the encounter kept cropping up at odd moments, leaving him feeling just slightly off-balance.

He still didn't know what to make of it. On the whole – brushing off the implied slight to his personal charms – he was inclined to believe Chris's theory, and he was beginning to feel a little annoyed with himself for having taken it all so seriously. But then he'd remember the look on Donita's face as she'd turned away, and he couldn't help but wonder whether that portion of the conversation, at least, might not have been part of her plan.

And with that question came the realization that the encounter had altered something between them, subtly, but surely, perhaps irrevocably; and he found that he could no longer think of her as just another villain. It wasn't that he had any desire for a relationship with her – everything he'd said to her that day was still true. But whether inadvertently or by design, she'd let slip her usual self-assured demeanor, allowing him a glimpse of something softer, more vulnerable – and in that moment, it had not been a creature stylist and a creature adventurer standing there on that jet, but just a woman and a man, not so different from any others. No expert in the complexities of feminine emotions, he could only guess at what Donita's had been, but imagining the same expression in the eyes of either of his female crewmates stirred not only his sympathies but his protective instincts as well – a discovery that clouded his thinking even more.

Martin shook his head as he tried yet again to push such thoughts from his mind, almost grateful just now for the distractions provided by their other two adversaries. Each of them could be dangerous in his own way, of course, but at least those ways were relatively straightforward. But his job was straightforward as well, he reminded himself, no matter who he was up against. And whatever Donita's feelings were or might have been, he'd be a fool to believe that she would allow them to stand in the way of her objectives – and he certainly couldn't afford to let his do the same. Donita was both smart and ambitious; having discovered an opponent's weakness, she would not hesitate to use it to her advantage, and though Martin was all too aware that he had no real way to predict what her next move might be in this particular game, he was determined that at the very least he would not be caught off-guard again.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"You're on!" Chris flashed his brother a confident grin. "There's no way you're going to find more zebra-tailed lizards than I am. I've got a full analysis of their habits right here – it'll lead me straight to them!"

He waved his Creature Pod tantalizingly in front of his brother's face – a move he instantly regretted when Martin deftly plucked the communicator from his hand and, holding it just slightly above Chris's head, began to scroll through its contents. A teasing grin and a removal of the Creature Pod to a level even farther out of his reach were all Chris got for his efforts to snatch the device out of his brother's grasp, but eventually, the older Kratt relented.

"Pretty impressive, bro," he acknowledged, handing it back, and Chris felt a small glow of pride overtake his mild feelings of annoyance. "You know..."

He trailed off unexpectedly, and Chris, glancing up in surprise, was puzzled to see his smile fading, a tiny crease appearing between his brows. The younger brother wasn't quite sure what to make of the uncharacteristic expression, but he did know that he didn't like it one bit, so he decided to try a little gentle teasing of his own. "What's the matter? Afraid I'm going to win?"

Martin shook his head quickly, the frown vanishing as Chris had hoped. "No way. I've just got to think like a zebra-tail. Besides–" Shifting his gaze a little to the left, he matched his brother's earlier grin with one of his own. "I've got something you don't have."

"What's that?"

The grin widened. "A head start."

Chris whirled around. Squinting in the bright sunlight, he could just make out a trim little reptile, almost perfectly camouflaged against the desert soil save for the distinctive black-and-white tail curled over its back. Pushing itself up on its slender legs, the lizard eyed the brothers warily, its tail now waving from side to side like a tiny flag. Then, without warning, it turned and bolted, skittering away across the sandy plain in a surprising burst of speed. Martin gave a whoop and sprinted after it.

Chris stared after him for a moment, then shook his head, chuckling to himself. "You'll never catch him," he called to his brother's retreating back, but of course Martin knew that. He was running for the sheer joy of it – and perhaps, Chris realized belatedly, a touch of competitive spirit. "Guess I'd better get a move on," the younger Kratt mused, although he wasn't really worried. Martin could more than hold his own when it came to creature knowledge, and his methods, though occasionally rather unorthodox, were generally very effective, but Chris was confident that his more analytical approach would put him over the top. Pausing to consult his Creature Pod once more, he headed off in a slightly different direction than the one his brother had taken, the one that – statistically speaking – should possess the highest concentration of zebra-tails. The race was on.

Chris paused at the mouth of a small, wooded canyon. He'd had quite a bit of success on the surrounding slopes, but the more abundant vegetation and the small stream running through the ravine made it unlikely that he'd spot many lizards down here. Still, the shade was inviting, a good place to cool off with a long drink of water after chasing around in the hot desert sun. Wiping his brow, Chris settled himself against the trunk of a large cottonwood tree and uncorked his canteen. His eyes roamed over the surrounding rocks and trees as he drank, always on the watch for any creatures that might be nearby, but everything seemed to be quiet.

Perhaps too quiet. The younger Kratt frowned. It wasn't uncommon for desert-dwelling animals to retreat to their burrows and dens during the midday heat, but this stillness had an unnatural quality, one that sent a faint prickle up the back of his neck. Replacing the cap on his water bottle, he stood up abruptly and began to move farther into the wash.

He was almost on top of them before he realized what he was seeing: a pair of cougar kittens, not more than two or three months old, their spotted coats blending in with the leaf litter in the dappled shade. They appeared to be engaged in a bout of playful wrestling, their oversized paws wrapped around each other, one set of tiny teeth nipping at a wayward tail. Chris drew in his breath with a hiss, understanding all at once both what was wrong with the scene and why it was that he hadn't noticed them earlier. The cubs were not moving.

Chris's lips tightened. Glancing farther up the ravine, he saw his suspicions confirmed by the familiar pink jet parked near the water's edge, and a small sigh escaped him. He'd known it was only a matter of time before they ran into Donita again, but he had hoped for his brother's sake that they might be able to put it off a little longer. But abandoning the young cougars was out of the question – and besides, he had to admit that there was definitely something to be said for simply getting this first meeting out of the way. Withholding another sigh, he pulled out his Creature Pod and hailed his brother.

"Looks like we've got a creature rescue on our hands," he reported, fingers flying as he keyed in his coordinates. "Two cougar cubs in suspended animation. Donita's got her jet parked down here by the stream, but I don't see her or Dabio."

He thought he saw his brother flinch, just slightly, but it could have been a flicker in the transmission. In any case, all Martin said was, "I'll be right there."

Martin quickened his pace as he neared his brother's location, his heart thudding unpleasantly in his chest for reasons that had very little to do with the effort of navigating the rocky terrain. Truth be told, he'd had a bad feeling about this adventure from the start, but he couldn't tell whether there was actually anything unusual amiss or whether it stemmed from what he considered an extremely cowardly desire to avoid seeing Donita again. He'd vowed not to allow what had happened between them to interfere with doing his job, and he intended to keep that promise, but there was no denying that it had been a lot easier to focus when the possibility of coming face-to-face with her wasn't lurking in the back of his mind. _It doesn't change anything_ , he told himself sternly. _And those cubs need your help._

Cresting the ridge that bordered the wash on that side, he felt his stomach give a nervous twist in spite of all his resolve as he caught sight of the pink jet perched on the gravelly bank, but it was the scene closer to the mouth of the ravine that stopped him dead in his tracks, almost paralyzed with horror. Chris was bending over the cubs with his Creature Pod in hand, absorbed in conducting some kind of bio-scan and completely unaware of the fully-grown female emerging from a clump of bushes behind him. From her narrowed eyes and the way she was lashing her tail, two things were very evident: she was the cubs' mother, and she was not happy.

Martin snatched his own Creature Pod from his pocket – nearly dropping it in his haste – and hurriedly rang his brother's device. "Hey, bro!" came the cheerful greeting. "I–"

"Shh!" Martin hissed sharply. Chris broke off, giving him a puzzled glance. "Don't make any sudden movements," the older brother warned, his voice barely above a whisper, but crystal-clear in its intensity. "Mama cougar at 6 o'clock. Repeat, mama cougar at 6 o'clock."

Chris's eyes widened, the smile wiped from his face, and Martin felt his own eyes being drawn skyward in the fleeting, desperate hope of spotting a peregrine falcon whose creature powers he might borrow to swoop down and get his brother out of there. But the vast expanse of blue above him remained clear and empty, unbroken by any shadow of wings, and he reluctantly turned his gaze back toward the ground.

"I'm on my way down," he assured his brother, starting down what seemed to be the most direct path to the bottom of the slope. "Just turn around very slowly and–"

"–try to back away from the cubs," Chris finished, nodding. The terrible, frozen look was gone, and Martin could almost see him scrolling through the myriad creature facts stored in his encyclopedic memory, pulling out the ones he could use to formulate a strategy. The younger brother nodded again, giving his sibling a small smile. "Got it. See you soon." Cutting the call, he took a deep breath and began rising slowly to his feet.

Making his way down the incline as quickly as he dared, Martin felt his stomach twist once again as he watched his brother turn to face the angry female. He was sure that Chris's plan was a solid one – the two of them were no strangers to dealing with agitated creatures, after all – but the cougar is one of the most fiercely protective mothers in the animal world, and the younger Kratt was walking a very fine line, needing to retreat without provoking her chase instinct, while simultaneously making himself appear both too insignificant to be a threat to the cubs and too intimidating to be prey.

He seemed to be managing it, however. Drawing himself up to his full height, he spread his arms and legs wide and held his ground for a moment, then lowered his hands, assuming a slightly more submissive posture, and began to edge away from the cubs. The mother allowed him to retreat a short distance as she glided swiftly toward her offspring, but on giving them a nudge and finding them unresponsive, she let out a distressed whine, then growled low in her throat and began to pursue him.

Martin had been approaching cautiously, trying not to alarm her further, but it was manifestly too late for that now. Breaking into a run, he charged down the embankment, waving his arms and shouting at the top of his voice in a frantic attempt to draw her attention away from his brother.

For a moment, it appeared to have worked. Flattening her ears, the mother turned and moved a few steps in his direction, her teeth bared in a snarl. "Come on, come on," Martin urged her under his breath. Another step, and Chris, seeing his opportunity, made a dash for a nearby tree, grabbing hold of a low-hanging branch and swinging himself up onto it.

But whatever relief Martin might have felt was extinguished almost immediately as the mother, apparently unwilling to relinquish her original quarry, turned back toward the younger Kratt with a menacing growl. One quick leap, and she was beneath the tree, swinging her powerful forepaw toward the human she believed to have endangered her cubs. Chris let out a cry of pain as her claws raked across the back of his leg.

"No!" Martin's anguished, answering cry echoed off the surrounding rocks. Chris was scrambling up the trunk, trying to get himself out of reach, but his injured leg buckled under his weight, and he slipped, barely managing to catch hold of the lowest branch to avoid plummeting to the ground. Clinging tightly with both hands, he tried desperately to hoist the rest of his body up onto it while the cougar paced below him.

Lungs burning, muscles screaming, Martin raced toward the pair, faster than he had ever run in his life. He had to get to Chris, had to help him somehow, but the distance between them didn't seem to be getting any smaller, and suddenly he knew, with a cold certainty that almost brought him to his knees, that he would never make it in time.

But he still had one move remaining, one surefire way to distract her. It was crazy, possibly bordering on suicidal, but what else could he do? Letting out another yell, he pivoted and changed course, heading straight for the cubs.

He thought he heard, as though from a long way off, the sound of Chris's voice screaming out his name, but he couldn't think about that now. Every ounce of his attention was riveted on the mother as she started toward him with another terrible snarl, every movement a reaction to hers. If he drew back too soon, she would lose interest in him and turn back to Chris as she'd done before. Too late, and... well, he preferred not to dwell on that.

 _Five more steps_ , Martin told himself, praying that he'd bought his brother enough time to make it to safety. _Three more... two..._

He hit the brakes, sending up a shower of pebbles as he skidded to a stop a scant few yards from the cubs. Fighting the overpowering urge to simply turn and bolt, he held his position for a few seemingly interminable seconds before beginning to back away, retreating slowly and deliberately in the opposite direction from the tree.

The mother paused in her advance, eying him suspiciously. Martin met her gaze as steadily as he could – a last-ditch display of a strength he was far from feeling – but he could see the powerful muscles under her tawny coat, coiled and ready to spring, and he felt his own muscles tighten in response, equally prepared to dodge the attack.

All at once, the ground between them seemed to come alive in a wriggling mass of spotted fur. The startled female jumped, not forward, but back, wide-eyed, as the cubs came hurtling toward her; the next moment, she had launched herself at them with a volley of ecstatic purrs, licking and pawing them all over as though to assure herself that they were all right, while they snuggled into her comforting warmth.

The undeniable tenderness of the scene brought a soft smile to Martin's face as he watched, even though he knew that he and perhaps Chris were still in very real danger. The little family seemed so absorbed in one another, however, that he thought it just might be possible to slip away and rejoin his brother without being noticed. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he began shifting his weight to his back foot, but before he'd taken even a single step, the mother glanced up sharply, her golden eyes flashing. Martin froze, hardly daring to breathe, as she directed a long, penetrating look at him, then back at Chris. At last, she turned and, giving her cubs a final nuzzle, led them away into the underbrush.

Martin stood gazing after them, held fast by wonder and amazement, until the tip of the last tail had disappeared from view. Then, letting out a long breath, he turned and began hurrying toward the tree, where Chris, who had been cautiously making his way down from the higher branches, now dropped to the ground, his trademark skilled landing deteriorating into an awkward semi-collapse as his wounded leg gave way beneath him.

"Chris!" Martin put on a final burst of speed, almost falling to his knees at his brother's side. His normally bright brown eyes wore a slightly glazed expression, and Martin bit his lip, hoping desperately that he wasn't going into shock. "Chris?" he called again, more softly, as he reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. "Bro?"

The younger Kratt jumped. "Martin... I... you–" Chris shuddered convulsively, burying his face in his brother's shoulder.

"It's okay," Martin whispered, although he too was shaking. "It's okay." He hardly even knew what he was saying, pure older-brother instinct taking over as he struggled to absorb the full impact of what had just taken place, and it was only the knowledge that Chris was still bleeding that induced him to loosen his hold on his brother. He drew in a deep, slightly ragged breath, then another, fighting to hold back the tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm them both. "Let's– let's take a look at that leg of yours, huh?"

Chris nodded and sat back, extending the injured limb with a wince while Martin dug the first-aid kit out of his pocket and set about cleaning and examining the wounds. He worked in silence for a few minutes, both brothers lost in their own thoughts once more, but the familiar – perhaps _too_ familiar – motions carried with them a sense of normalcy that was oddly soothing, and he soon felt his hands growing steadier, the specter of what could have been receding for the moment in the face of practical necessity.

"Well, it could've been a lot worse," he reported at last, sitting back on his heels with a relieved-sounding exhale as he reached back into his kit for a roll of bandages. "You're probably going to need a few stitches once we get back to the _Tortuga_ , but it doesn't look like there's any major damage. He gave his brother a crooked smile. "But no more tree-climbing for a couple of days, at least."

Chris nodded absently, and Martin noted with affectionate amusement the intent expression that meant that he was puzzling over some question or other. Injury or no, the younger Kratt was never one to leave a mystery unsolved for very long. Sure enough, as Martin began wrapping a final layer of gauze around his brother's leg, Chris's head abruptly snapped up. "How did the cubs get free?" he demanded.

Martin blinked, a bit taken aback. Honestly, the question hadn't even crossed his mind until now. He'd been stunned to see the cubs suddenly come to life, and almost dizzy with relief when their mother had decided to put an end to the confrontation, but once she and her babies had vanished into the underbrush, he'd had no time for analysis, no thought to spare for anything but Chris. "I… don't know," he started to say, but even as he spoke, he found his gaze being drawn back upstream with the dawning realization of what must have happened.

Donita was standing beside the jet with the controller in her hand, watching the two brothers with an odd expression on her face. When her eyes met Martin's, she smiled, ever so slightly. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he got to his feet, the roll of gauze trailing forgotten from his hand, and for a long moment neither of them moved or spoke.

"All ready, Donita!" Dabio's cheerful voice shattered the silence.

Donita gave a start. She looked down at Martin for another moment, then turned slowly, deliberately, back toward the jet, sauntering up the ramp in her high-heeled boots. When she reached the top, she paused, throwing another smile over her shoulder – a smile much more like the confident, slightly flirtatious one she usually wore – and fluttered her fingers in a tiny wave. Then the doors closed behind her and she was gone.

Chris let out a long breath as the aircraft streaked off across the sky, growing smaller and smaller in the distance until it was lost from sight. "Why'd she do it?" he wondered aloud. "Did she want us to feel like we owe her one?" He cast a sidelong glance at his brother, the teasing note of weeks past now conspicuously absent from his voice. "Or do you think she really...?"

Martin shook his head, his eyes still on the last lingering wisps of vapor that the jet had left behind. "I don't know," he said at last, turning back to Chris with a rueful half-smile. "And I'm not sure I ever want to find out."


End file.
